


Inspired

by StrikeMyHeart



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:11:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeMyHeart/pseuds/StrikeMyHeart
Summary: Nick and Ilsa decide to host a fancy dress party.





	Inspired

With a deep sigh, Strike finally arrived at the office's address on Denmark St. What was supposed to be a short surveillance stint had turned into a full day. Twitchy Fiddler was usually a creature of habit and completely predictable but today he'd chosen to go off script and had led Strike quite a dance. A resentful growling accompanied his weary trudge up the stairs. 

Laughter and giggling met him halfway up and he recognized Robin, and Ilsa as well. Strike smiled; he was happy that those two had become so close. Robin needed more friends and he was pleased to share his childhood chum with the woman who meant so much to him in so many different ways. Their friendship meant that he saw even more of Robin in a social setting these days. Pleasure easing his weariness, he continued up the stairs.

He opened the door to the office and spied an opened bottle of wine on Robin's desk. Turning he observed the startled faces of the women enjoying themselves so much they hadn't noticed his uneven tread on the stairs.

A glance at his watch. A raised eyebrow. "Drinking on the job, Robin? You're being a bad influence, Ilsa!"

Ilsa snorted a little wine out of her nose and quickly scrabbled for a tissue. Voice muffled, she responded with, "Get over yourself, Corm. As if you've never had a tipple on the job!"

Robin grinned at both her friends. "Cormoran, we were just planning our HalloFawkes party fancy dress! Have you given any thought to yours?"

"HalloFucking what party?" He was horrified and actually took a step back dramatically grabbing at the door as if for balance.

Robin looked at him with concern and rose to move over to him but stopped when Ilsa snorted again. "C'mon, Corm. You knew we were having a party and I'm sure Nick told you that we'd decided to do things a bit differently this year. Combining Halloween and Guy Fawkes is a great idea!"

Strike sighed and hobbled over to sit on the sofa beside Ilsa. "I remember him saying something at the pub about the party but Arsenal was winning so I guess he didn't have my full attention."

He received a poke in the ribs for his confession. "Well, you know about it now and you promised me you'd come this year! Doesn't fancy dress appeal? Dressing up and pretending to be someone you're not?"

"Been illic , perfectus ut." Ilsa and Robin looked at him quizzicaly. "Been there, done that. I worked undercover in the SIB, remember?"

Strike looked across the desk at Robin with an attempt at a pitiful, pleading gaze. She giggled.

"I've been telling Ilsa that I'm considering a 16th century noblewoman for my fancy dress, what do you think?"

Strike's eyes glazed over. 16th century meant those low cut gowns and sheer lacy ruffles barely covering the chestal area, didn't they? "Sounds perfect, Ellacot!"

Robin beamed happily at him while Ilsa observed them out of the corner of her eye.

"What are you going to go as, Cormoran? I could help you figure it out if you'd like."

He smiled fondly at her. Robin flushed with pleasure. Ilsa sighed into her glass.

A vague idea took root in his mind. "I've the ghost of an idea but I'll have to think on it a bit. What's the date, again?"

The women rolled their eyes in unison and said together, "Two weeks."

"Two weeks! Shit. I'll have to get on it, then."

For the next two weeks. he was pestered, both blatantly and with subtlety but he gave nothing away. He found pictures of famous detectives, Frankenstein, and Dracula interspersed with the papers Robin gave him. Ilsa phoned and asked him what he thought of Benedict Cumberbatch as a modern day Sherlock. She knew bloody well he'd never watched that show. Or Game of Thrones. He started to enjoy himself, maybe the party wouldn't be so bad after all. Especially if Robin went as a barely covered 16th century woman.

On the day of the party, Robin turned up early with her costume in a bag. She and Ilsa ran around madly making sure everything was in place. 

"Alcohol set up?" 

"Check."

"Plenty of nibblies dispersed about?"

"Check"

Nick and his brother were roped in to moving furniture to accommodate as many people as possible. Cormoran was nowhere to be seen. He'd told Robin he had to go and pick up his costurme. Nick was skeptical.

"Oggy's just trying to avoid manual labour!" he proclaimed loudly. 

After much hustle and bustle everything was ready and three of them retired upstairs to change. Apparantly Spanner didn't need any privacy to change into his fancy dress.

Spanner was waiting downstairs wearing a dark green cardigan and jeans; from his neck hung a small piece of board with the word "Mother" written on it. Robin came downstairs first and was met with a wolf whistle. "Damn, Robin, you look incredible in that." She laughed. "Motherboard, Spanner?" He grinned.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs they turned and watched as a rather elegant vampire and something in a brown jogging suit, green shoes, and wads of bunched up brown and green chiffon netting made their entrance.

Robin grinned at Ilsa. "A bloodsucker in life & in death, yeah?" Ilsa inclined her head and gave Robin a haughty look before giggling. "I thought it was inspired."

Spanner was gazing at Nick, tilting his head this way and that trying to figure him out. "Fuck, Nick what the hell is that?" Nick struck a dramatic pose. "I'm a gastroenterologist, that's your clue." Robin stared and then then started to laugh. And snort. "Nick, are you a ... a .... fart?" 

'Can't fool a detective!" Ilsa nodded wisely. "Robin, you look great! Such a beautiful blue brocade and the gold trim is sce! Corm's going to love your look!" Robin blushed bright red and ran a hand lightly over her braided hair. "I thought it was inspired too! The wine and chat with you was a great help."

The doorbell rang and the party began in earnest. Nick was delighted to see a couple dressed up as a piece of poo and a roll of loo paper. When his host's duties weren't too pressing he'd trail around after the husband followed by a colleague dressed as a whoopee cushion.

Robin received many more compliments on her costume from the guests while at the same time they pretened to cower and covered their drinks glasses. Deep in conversation with one of Nick's colleagues, she became aware of a slight stir in the room. She turned and caught her breath; he was here. 

They drifted toward one another as though pulled by an invisible force. He smiled sheepishly and as he took her hand and bowed low over it, he noticed she was wearing a pillbox ring. "Lucrezia Borgia, rumoured poisoner and damned good manager?" He chuckled. "That is right in so many ways. Scary as fuck, right good Halloween fancy dress, and you having hunted down a murderer or two yourself." 

Robin gave him a beautific smile and curtsied. "Thank you kind sir. You are looking well this day, yourself." 

Her gaze travelled over him from the tip of the feather tucked into the band of his hat, down the length of his dark blue leather-clad body. His belt held a sword and a ...."A musket? Is that a musket, Cormoran?" Strike ducked his head and looked at her from from underneath the brim of his hat. 

"Which one?" Robin, glad of the excuse, trailed her gaze over him again and saw the stoneware wine bottle and grinned up at him. "Musketeer Athos, of course! Moody, hard-drinking and protective. An honorable soldier. That is so right for you, Cormoran!" Strike flushed a little under her admiring gaze.

"Well, I'd originally thought of coming as a Cornish pirate but most of the famous ones are from Devon or Wales. Couldn't have that! Lots of smugglers though but not so romatic"

"Of course not!" chuckled Robin.

"Nick helped me come up with this idea and I like us being in the same century since we're partners and all .Inspired, yeah?" 

He spoke somewhat absently, his gaze lingering on the bit of lacy rufflele at her chest. It was barely keeping her assets covered. "One good sneeze, that's all it would take!" he thought to himself and raised his hand to touch the feather in his hat.

"Oh, but I'm earlier than you!" Robin worried.

He smiled fondly at her and leaned down to whisper, "That's fine, I don't mind an older woman." The words, the breath, a caress along her exposed neck. Robin swayed and leaned forward slightly.

Across the room a vampire and a fart watched the musketeer and the lady. Leaning into her husband Ilsa said, "I think we were very inspired, don't you?" A kiss on her temple was her answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I took some artistic licence here because I've never actually seen The Borgias. Strike's fancy dress is based on season one of The Musketeers.


End file.
